


As It Turns Out, I Love you. Quite Annoying, Actually

by killingmeisso2yrsago



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Eventual Smut, Everybody is a mess, First Person, Humor, Jim is enjoying himself, John is a Bit Not Good, John is a Mess, M/M, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock has a shitty past, Sherlock is a Mess, Sherlock's POV, Still all very up in the air, but eh, man i don't even know, mentions of drug use, normally don't write first person, very kinky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9293996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingmeisso2yrsago/pseuds/killingmeisso2yrsago
Summary: This is the beginning of John and Sherlock's relationships. Things aren't perfect, they never are. Moriarty, of course, wants Sherlock all to himself and John is now a problem. A fight for Sherlock ensues and the poor thing is left standing all dazed. Will be intense booty scenes as well as many other sexual activities. Our boys can only be so young for so long, afterall. This is my first posted work and completely unbeta'd! Leave comments and let me know if you want me to continue with this or not! You will be the deciding factor! Also-Hit me up if you want to beta!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of the characters! Nothing exciting in this chapter, lovelies. Just setting it all up!

What is this annoying thing that normal people call love? Why do they care so much about it? Why is it so important? That is perhaps the only thing that I do not understand. Emotions, feelings, sentiment. Why does it matter? I will never understand the appeal. Nor do I wish to understand, for that matter, a feeling that is nothing more than a nuisance. That is, until I met two people of whom I never thought I’d have feelings for. Two people that -for all intents and purposes- are completely different animals.

************************************************************************  
To be frank, shopping is a complete waste of time. Especially when I have more important things to be doing. Thank you, Mrs.Hudson, you bloody demanding landlord. 

'Why can't you just leave me be?' I have asked her so many times that I cannot care to remember how many exactly. Wait. Hmmm. Yes, I can. I’ve asked her 257 within the last year alone. Perhaps I ask her so often because I always end up deleting her answer, as she always replies with a laugh and a wave of her hand. Why does she insists on being so mother-like? The conclusion that I have come to is that she’s never had a child of her own, and sees me in that light. 

Yes, that must be the reason.

Because there is no other reason why I would be here right now. At Tesco's. Buying tea and biscuits, a task so very mundane. 

I'd much rather be back at the flat experimenting and making a fuss. Pouting and demanding that she go out instead. Or perhaps that John would go out instead. It would be so much easier for myself; I wouldn't be wasting my time. 

I cannot help my childishness as I throw the gallon of milk into the cart, grumbling under my breath as I did so, ignoring the looks that I received- as I always do. I hardly pay attention or notice them anymore. I get them everywhere I go. The 'look'. The whispers. They've become something that is close to normal for me. 

Anyways, as I was saying. Shopping is a drag; everything about it. But...It was better than the actual action of checking out. My patience always wears thin when Im checking out. Mainly because the clerks take their time as they check out my groceries; talking to clerks all the way across the room asking you how your day is going, so on and so forth. It makes me want to either kill myself or find some unique way to kill them.

As soon as they were done bagging, I was out of the market and on my way back to the flat. Back to safety and to silence, cases and tea. Away from...People. How disgusting people are. 

**********************************************************************************

The walk back to the flat was rather quick and eventless as it always is. And, as always, I dropped a quid to Billy, one of my most valuable intelligence sources from my homeless network.   
It had been quite easy, really. Feed them. Sneak them in the proper drugs and clothing without being detected. Join them. Speak to them. Gain their trust. Before my homeless network had been created, life solving crime had been difficult. Difficult to watch other people and predict their actions, where they were headed, what they were doing. But now that I have sources and people constantly watching over London, it’s much more easier on me. Not to mention that I trust these homeless people more than my own brother. 

Well. I trust almost anybody more than my old brother.

The nosey sod. 

I stopped in front of Elbert Street, staring down it longingly. So many memories I have of this little street that meant nothing to a normal person. The alley on this street in the middle of the fourth and fifth building on the right side was my home. This is where there was Kyle, my old drug dealer, who is currently still dealing, still waiting for his best customer to come back to him. Memories of being on my knees and begging for just a little bit more come rushing back to me. Memories of sneaking out at night and shooting up with the man. Memories of pain and loneliness and for the longing of more. I blinked and took a shuddering breath before forcing myself to look away and keep walking. I’m over that period of my life. I’m safe and clean and I have John. I don’t need it anymore. 

I don't.

**********************************************************************************

I walked into the flat and slammed the door behind me, running up the stairs to the flat. Opening the door to the fridge, I emptied the contents of the bags into it, pushing aside the flask of month old urine (not mine, by the way) to make enough room for everything. 

Once I was done, of course, John chose to come home from work. I, of course, knew because of the pattern of the footfall coming up the stairs and the familiar tired sighs that echoed up the staircase and into the kitchen . I knew that the doctor was going to be surprised that I had bothered to go shopping, since the I normally refused to do it. I didn't do it for John, though. I did it because Mrs.Hudson said she wouldn't make me tea in the mornings anymore if I didn't. I like my tea. 

I knew John would thank me. I won't reply, though. I hardly do, anymore. If I do, it's very little.

John had a wife, once. Her name was Mary. Mary Morstan. A liar. A deceiver. The woman who had shot me and almost killed me, though she had also saved me. John was devastated when he found out, of course. Hadn't expected it. He left her after a few months of trying to make things work. He moved back in with me and has been here ever since. 

At first he was sad. But now he's just...John. The same John he was before he had ever met Mary. My John. I felt guilty because it made me happy that he was back here. It made me happy that he left her and was with me now. Well...Not /with/ me. But back here, in the flat. 

"Sherlock, have you seen my-" John stopped short and looked at the grocery bags on the counter, and then to me-putting the groceries away-, and then back at the grocery bags. 

"You went shopping."

"Wonderful observation, John. Of course I have."

"You never go shopping."

I sighed heavily and placed the contents of the bag into the cupboard and closed it. Turning to look at John, I looked him up and down. He hadn't said thank you, yet. Odd. Perhaps John was too stunned to thank him. 

I blinked and realized he was expecting some sort of answer. I just shrugged at him and then walked around his rigid body, opening the fridge and putting the milk inside. 

"I got bored." It was the only excuse I could come up with. If I were to tell John that Mrs.Hudson sent me out, he would attempt to make me go shopping more often. I don't want that. All of the time that I could be spending working on a case, on an experiment, filing things away in my mind palace. All of that, wasted on shopping. How repulsive.

"Bored," John said dumbly, as if his puny little brain couldn’t possibly understand just what ‘bored’ meant. It wouldn’t be surprising if that were, in fact, the case.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes in annoyance at having to repeat myself, “Yes, John. Bored. We both know that I get bored frequently. I do different things when I get bored. Like going shopping.”

“Apparently,” John grumbled, finally moving away from where he stood in the opening of the kitchen. I watched as he moved out of the kitchen and into the living room area, toeing off his shoes by the door and settling down into the chair. 

I watched him for another few moments before I returned to putting away the groceries. There’s simply no point in watching John whilst he isn’t doing anything. 

After I put away the groceries, I move to sit in my chair. I know that I need to do something to occupy my mind, lest I go insane. But I cannot think of anything to do, nor do I particularly want to move anymore. Unless there’s a case, I’m not in the mood to be a part of society. To acknowledge the outside world. I had already gone shopping, and that’s more than enough. 

“You’re home awfully early, John,” I observed, lifting an eyebrow. 

John looked up and hummed at me before looking back down to the book that he had picked up. “Yeah, it was a slow day and they didn’t need me anymore, so they sent me home. Is it a problem that I’m home early? Normally you’re complaining that I work all day.”

I shrugged my shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that I could. John had made a fair point, and I was unwilling to admit that. I sniffed and turned my nose up to the air, “It’s no problem. I was merely noticing that you were here early. Why are you so quick on the defensive this evening?”

John frowned at me, pursing his lips and shoving his tongue into the side of his mouth. How odd. He always did that when I pointed something out that he didn’t like, or that he didn’t want to explain. My lips stretched upwards in a knowing manner. 

“Aaah. I see now,” I hummed.

“See what, exactly?”

“You have a date this evening that you don’t want me to know about. You feel embarrassed, which is why you’re so defensive. I don’t mind.” I lied. Why. Why does John have to be so keen on having a girlfriend? 

John shifted uncomfortably before me, staring down at his clenched fist and pursing his lips before looking back up, eyes squinting in that way they do when John’s pissed. Oh dear. 

“What makes you say I’m embarrassed? I’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then why-”

“Because,” I interjected, holding up a hand at him, “No...Nevermind, it’s nothing. Have fun tonight.” My smile was forced and I turned away from John, ending the conversation. 

I heard receding footsteps behind me and my shoulders sagged. That was that, then. John would just go and have his date and leave me here. Like always. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Who am I to get mad at John every time he goes out? He’s a normal human being and normal human beings feel the need to...Participate in activities. 

I was about to shut myself in my room when I heard thundering footsteps behind me and I was jerked around. 

“John what are-”

I was cut off by the last thing I ever expected. 

John’s lips against mine.


End file.
